With its open concept, I can see every part from the door. Despite that, I swear, this hotel room has its own living room.
Everything about this place is huge. The bed. The soaking tub in the bathroom that’s basically a jacuzzi. The floor to ceiling windows giving us a view of the downtown area around us.
“Like it, Sweetheart?” Griffin asks, setting down some of our stuff before coming over and brushing a tender kiss against my forehead.
I grab the back of his neck, lifting up onto my tippy toes and pulling him down towards me. His grin is wide as he lets me pull him down, our lips meeting in a hard and fast kiss. When we pull back, my eyes are bright.
I’m practically bubbling with excitement and breathless laughter.
“Can we afford this, though?” I say, sobering as I watch Ash scope out the entire room, checking the wardrobes and closets for any hidden danger.
“That’s not for you to worry about, Sugar,” Rowan says, throwing himself down on the lush couch in the living room area.
“Yeah, you don’t have to worry about anything,” Griffin murmurs, pressing another soft kiss on my forehead.
“Okay,” I say, nodding slowly.
I reach my hand out to Rage, who’s standing awkwardly at the doorway, a few duffel bags’ worth of our stuff tucked under his arm.
“What’re you waiting for, Rage?” I say, bounding over to him, my feet sinking into the plush carpet.
He sets down our stuff beside the door and takes my extended hand.
“What do you think?” I ask, eagerly tugging him further into the room.
“It’s... big.”
“It is! Like you,” I giggle. “Maybe the furniture will actually fit you.”
He entertains my antics, letting me tug him to the armchair in the living room and sitting down when I gesture for him to do so.
Maybe it’s because this hotel caters more to alphas, but Rage doesn’t dwarf this armchair nearly as much as he did the one at the motel.
“Is it comfy?”
Instead of answering me, he uses our intertwined hands to tug me down onto his lap.
I’ve grown really fond of this. All my guys can’t seem to get enough of me. They all take turns holding me, kissing me, or more.
Well, I guess I haven’t technically done anything more with all of them.
Rage and I haven’t done anything but kiss. Every time I get all worked up, he backs off and one of the others swoops in.
His head lowers and his lips brush tentatively against mine. Only when I return the kiss does he gain anything remotely closeto confidence. The kiss remains slow and soft, his hand reaching up to gently cup my face. His lips are like velvet, such a contrast to the hardness of the rest of his body.
Seated across his lap like this, I’m made incredibly aware of just how big he is. He tries to make himself small, a lot of the time. Even though it’s physically impossible. It’s obvious in the way he carries himself.
But the longer our kisses go for, the more that brittle control he has over himself slips.
I shift my weight, my ass wiggling against him. He’s hard. I can feel him through his sweatpants, pressing insistently against my hip.
He immediately breaks the kiss, leaving me panting.
His dominance swirls in the surrounding air, my lungs filling with the leather and iron scent that’s just all him. It surrounds me, sinking into my bones. There’s just something about this that overwhelms me withwant.
No, aneed. A need for him.
I shift my weight again, this time pressing my thighs together to ease the ache between them. I think I’ve ruined my panties with the slick gushing from me right now.
